The high roosters communicate ideas with ease,
Informing the lowly of that which is known.
“Sunrise,” they screech,
As if only they have eyes.
“Sunrise,” they repeat,
As if every day’s a surprise.
The lowly sink lower as the noise overhead
Becomes persistent,
Insistent,
Then dead.
The high roosters communicate ideas with ease,
But the lowly may not want to know.

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